About Me

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Massachusetts, United States
Wife to one, mom of three, low-energy-type coffee junkie (which, of course, goes hand-in-hand with motherhood), reluctant minivan owner, rock-n-roller, vegetarian, cloth diaperer, perpetual student (well, I'd like to be, but I'm well in the hole with student loans), abuser of parentheses (see previous uses) and ellipses (because so much is open-ended)...

Friday, February 18, 2011

Ode to my Recent Purchases

Okay, I'll skip the single space after punctuation issue for now, but it's a comin'...

In light of my last entry, and the fact that I actually hung most of the photographs and pieces of art and art prints (mostly art prints, unfortunately, though my friend asked recently if the Van Gogh "The Promenade, Evening" print was the real deal...if only!), I have to gush about our recent furniture delivery of a new sectional couch and the 6 kitchen chairs to accommodate our new, unfinished parawood (still unstained, but felt-backed-tablecloth-protected) kitchen table.

This might sound weird, being that I'm on the cusp of 40 and have birthed three children, but I almost feel like an adult now. Every new consumer milestone (buying a vehicle, doling out too much money for a washer and dryer) makes me feel closer to adulthood and infinitely farther away from that March 1990 day when I was newly 19 and in my first apartment which was bare of everything except my and my roommates' bedroom furniture.

So, out with the futon (I mean, how early-20s!) and dejected loveseat and in with the chocolate brown microsuede sectional and two-tone black and fudge Mission-style side chairs.

I really like my couch. It makes me want to sprawl out with a bowl of popcorn and watch Jersey Shore (I'm not kidding). Or lay on my back and just be, with no external noise. Not to mention that it feels good to have something on which all of my family can sit that doesn't tilt backward like some kind of back-breaking carnival ride. (Honestly, when I was pregnant with my two youngest, I wanted to mutilate the futon, alternating with a chainsaw and a battle axe, for being so incredibly uncomfortable and outright evil. But, it did serve its purpose. And, thanks to Craigslist, it's gone. For good.)

And a big table with more chairs than family members--whoa! Our old table quite literally cramped any ability to eat together, and I try to coordinate a family meal at least a couple of times a week. To boot, it takes superhuman powers to make everyone's meals magically appear simultaneously! (We're talking my youngest's pureed food; my middle child's cubed food; my oldest's food du jour; my vegetarian meal; and my husband's meal, plus whatever everyone else is eating, minus pureed stuff. And sometimes, just sometimes, I get almost everyone to eat the same meal, a truly miraculous feat, I admit.) It's even harder to work that magic when there is barely enough room for everyone's plates and cups.

What this is really about is taking the next step in my life toward being comfortable--a previously uncharted territory. Sometimes I'm not even really sure what comfortable means; somehow it's mostly been beyond my grasp. My husband and I are reasonably frugal, often foregoing all the gadgets, high-tech appliances, and popular clothing brands and trends. I like to think that we live simply, 'cause we do, for the most part.

It's weird writing about furniture. In the scheme of things, it's all rather trivial. But, on an everyday level, these possessions are creature comforts and an aesthetic oasis compared to our previously mismatched, uncomplimentary pieces of hand-me-downs (and there ain't nuthin' wrong with those!). On a deeper level (yes, apparently there is a "deep" when it comes to this kind of stuff), I feel satisfied.

Of course, I'll feel even more satisfied if everything survives the battlefield of two babies and a 'tween by the time it's all paid off. For now though, the focus is finding a stain to match our chairs (in a veritable ocean of stains and brands of stains and combination stains/polyurethane) and then finding the time (a dirty, dirty word) to sand and stain the table. The very thought of which necessitates a much-needed laze on the couch, posthaste!

I'll think about closet organization some other time...